


A Bar of Rose-Scented Soap

by Dewy_Peach



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Christmas, Drabble, M/M, Presents, post breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewy_Peach/pseuds/Dewy_Peach
Summary: A present bought in hopes of making up





	A Bar of Rose-Scented Soap

During his meticulously planned-out diplomatic visit to a certain Middle-Eastern country, England made one absolutely irrational decision, which was the purchase of a bar of soap. 

“Do you happen to have anything rose-scented, maybe?” he asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the loud chatter. The clean, fresh smell had pulled him to this stall, noticeable even over the strong spices of the market. 

“Here.” The lady behind the stall pointed at a row of bars painted in kaleidoscopic patterns of white, pink and red. “You can hold and smell if you like.”

England did as suggested, and instantly regretted it, as the familiar smell made his heart clench tightly in his chest. He returned the soap to its stand. “I’ll take one.”

“That’ll be thirty.” The woman took the bar and began wrapping it up in brown paper. England fished a few local coins out of his wallet and placed them on the table. 

She smiled at him. “For your wife? These are great as a romantic gift.”

“No, no.” He shook his head quickly. “It’s for… an old friend. Roses are his favourite.”

She raised her eyebrows at his expression. “A best friend from childhood?” She asked. “Or an ‘old friend’ of the kind that you lie awake missing in the middle of the night?”

The corners of England’s mouth crooked upwards. “Perhaps both.”

“Oh.” The lady laughed. “He will take you back, don’t worry.” 

England’s smile turned somewhat bitter. “I really doubt it.”

“Christmas is a good time for making up,” she insisted. She probably didn't even celebrate it. “Besides, you can’t resist such a handsome man and good soap.”

England chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “Thank you. Well,” he shrugged, “who knows. Maybe.” 

“What colour should the ribbon be?”

He didn't have to think about it. “Blue.”

She finished wrapping and handed him the small package. “Tell him it's handmade, all natural ingredients. Very good for the skin.”

“I'm sure he'll appreciate it. He likes that kind of stuff.” England slipped the soap into his pocket. “I'm sorry, I have to go now. I have a plane to catch.”

The lady cheerfully waved goodbye. “Where to?”

England breathed in deep. “Paris.”

 


End file.
